Bella and the Secret Garden
by artimisluna
Summary: After losing her parents in India, young Bella must live with her uncle. She finds a garden and discovers its magic as it lifts the dark cloud hanging over her uncles Manor. BxE, JxA, RxEm.


**Hi everyone. Me again. Sorry for disappearing on you guys with my other story. So much crap has been happening in my life. Anyway, you'll be glad to know I am writting again and this time, I am making my first Twilight Fanfic. I have always wanted to write one but never found any inspiration. That was until recently I watched an exciting movie that was from 1993 or something. It was such a beautiful story that I had to write it down with the characters we all know and love from Twilight. And trust me when I say this, I think you will be happy with it.**

**Note: I do not own any of the characters. They all belong to _you know who._**

There I stand. In the middle of my bedroom at eight in the morning. My servants getting me dressed for the day. Layers upon layers of clothing are placed, pulled, and tied to my body.

Just as any other day.

My name is Isabella Swan. I was born in India. It was hot. And strange. And also lonely.

I didn't like it.

And nobody but my servant, Mayaya, looked out for me.

My parents, Charlie and Renee Swan, didn't want me. My mother cared only to go to parties. And my father was too busy with his military duties to pay any attention to me. It was almost as if I didn't exist. I'm sure they saw me that way.

I was never allowed to go to the parties. I would watch from my mothers bedroom windows. Dancers everywhere. Giant plates of food being passed around by the servants. The Maharaja entering the grand hall while riding an elephant. His clothes covered in threads of gold and jewels of many shapes and colors. He couldn't have been older if not the same age as me. And yet the adults greet and treat him as if he were the same age as the adults.

I was angry. Angry at my parents. Angry at the country. And at everything around me.

But I didn't cry. I didn't know how to cry. The last time I cried was when I was a child and had broken my favorite doll. But that was years ago. Now at the age of seventeen, and have every reason to cry, I don't.

At the moment my parents are bowing to the young prince. My mother offers him a smile. A smile she never once showed myself. My breathing picks up in hatred as I charge to my mothers desk and throw her make-up and brushes everywhere. The last thing I pick up is an ivory elephant. I look at it for a moment before throwing that hard onto the floor, causing its trunk to break off.

I look at it and again and bend to pick it up. Along with its broken trunk. For some reason the elephant looks sad.

I know. Its now really alive. There for how could it be sad.

I don't what it is, but I feel as if I must fix it.

I try to stick the trunk back into place when I hear my mothers laughter coming closer to her door. In my haste, I drop the trunk onto the floor but keep the elephant tight in my hand as I dive under my mother and fathers bed to hide.

My fathers laughter joins my mothers as the walk into the room. I see then smiling at each other from my hiding spot. My mother walks at a fast pace to her desk, not noticing her make-up and brushes on the floor and grabs what looks to be a closed fan.

"Turns out I did leave my fan in here, Charlie. You didn't have to follow me." My mother says.

"But I wanted to, darling. For I fear the gods of India have seen your beauty and wish to steal you away." Father says in a loving voice. A voice he uses only for my mother.

She laughs and kisses his cheek.

My parents always thought about themselves. They never thought about me.

If only I could have known. That in a few moments…I lose them forever.

Shortly after they leave to return to the party, the ground starts to rumble. And soon, it starts to shake. The bed vibrates as I hide under it still. Paintings fall off the walls. Glasses break.

In the distance I could hear people screaming. Objects crashing. The Maharajas elephant cries out of fright.

The room starts to feel hot. Bits of ceiling fall onto the floor in front of me. I sink back against the wall the bed is against. My fathers suitcase slides next to me. The coals that are burning in the fireplace roll freely across the floor, making every piece of cloth they reach burst into flames. The air becomes thick with smoke and I try not to breathe it in.

The whole time that this goes on, not once did I loose my grip on my mothers elephant.

Dawn breaks. And the ships loud foghorn wakes me up.

It has been a little over six months since my parents death. And I spent a small part of it at a funeral. Now I am coming towards the end of an almost five month boat ride to live with my uncle in England.

I arrived at the docks of Liverpool at ten in the morning only to be greeted by pouring rain. I walk with a group of children to the greeting room. All the children have tags on their jackets with their names and a number written on them.

I fix my hat to cover most of my face as one of the boys speaks to me.

"Look Ms. Bella. We're finally here. Can you believe it?"

As soon as he said my name all the children begin their gossip. They were no better than adults.

"She's so sour."

"I heard she never cried when her parents died."

"She's such a freak."

As we all get our suitcases, a man wearing a top hat reads out a list of numbers and the names of the children. With each name and number, the children met up with the adults there to pick them up. Usually it their parents, grandparents, or even their older siblings. No matter which it was, they always looked happy to see each other.

"Number 43: Isabella Swan."

I blush from embarrassment as I walk toward the front of the crowed. I wasn't a child, but since I wasn't eighteen yet they insisted on treating me like one.

As I stand at the front, the children begin to sing a song they made up about me.

_Isabella, quite the stella_

_How does your garden grow?_

_With silver bells_

_And purple shells_

_And pretty lilies all in a row_

All of the adults stared at me while the children laughed. Why they thought it was funny, I'll never know. All I could do is roll my eyes at them.

The man waits for a minute before shouting at the top of his lungs my name and number. Finally when no one steps up to claim me he has me step to the side so that he may call upon the other children.

One by one the children left with their parents. I'd watch as the mothers would hold their child tightly with a smile as tears would escape their eyes. After a while I kept my eyes to the floor. I couldn't look at the love I never got from my mother being passed from these mothers to the children. I didn't want to say it out loud, but I felt heartbroken.

It was now nightfall. So much time had gone by that the dock workers were sweeping up the place. Yet there I sat on my suitcase. Pulling my jacket tighter around me to keep warm as I wait for the uncle who hasn't arrived yet.

Moments later I hear footsteps walking in the distance. I pass it of thinking it was just another worker. But as the footsteps draw near me, I notice they sound as if they came from a woman.

"Isabella Swan?" The woman asks with authority.

I stand and look at her. She was a woman in her thirties. I knew this from seeing the very faint lines forming around her mouth. Her golden blond hair that is in a stylish up do is being covered by a hat. She wears a huge black jacket, and black gloves. Her dress is covered by her jacket.

The woman looks to the man. "Is this Isabella Swan?"

The man opens his book to the list he read off earlier in the day. Finds my name and number and nods a yes to the woman.

"I've come to claim her. I'm Miss. McCarty. Housekeeper of the Cullen Manor for Carlisle Cullen, her uncle and Guardian."

The man nods and checks off my name from the list as the woman looks at me with distaste.

"What a queer, unresponsive girl. In my word a plain piece of goods. Her mother was a beauty. She certainly didn't hand much of it down, did she?"

How dare this woman. Insult me as if I wasn't there. Even though she is clearly looking at me. She obviously didn't mind talking trash to strangers. Made me wonder what it would be like at the Manor.

"Oh, she might improve as she gets older. She's still young. Young girls her age change." The man said with very little regard.

Pig.

"She'll have to change quiet a bit. If you ask me there's not much to improve at Masters great Manor." With that she turned away from the man and started walking away.

"Come along." She yelled.

I quickly grabbed my suitcases and ran to catch up to her.

The carriage ride wasn't the quiet ride I hoped it would be. The woman never stopped running her mouth. Even when she was stuffing it with food.

"it's a pity for you that you haven't any other place to go. Your uncle is not going to trouble himself about you. That's for sure and certain. He never troubles himself about anybody. As if I'm in a crooked room slaving while your aunt rests peacefully in the cemetery."

I look to her in confusion. That last part was news to me.

"Oh that's right. Your aunt is dead. Did you know? Didn't your aunt tell you?"

"No." I simply answered.

"Strange. Not telling her only daughter that her aunt is dead."

"My mother didn't have the time in her busy schedule to tell me stories."

That shut her up for a few hours. Dawn was coming fast and we have yet to sleep or reach the Manor. The whole ride I just kept looking out the window at the empty field that seemed to never end.

After another hour or so, I see a building in the distance. Miss. McCarty looks out as well and sighs.

"Oh, at last. There's Cullen Manor now. You'll go straight to bed for a few hours. A nap will do you good."

I roll my eyes at her demand and continue to look to the Manor as it gets closer and closer every minute. My new home is just a short distance away as the sun shines through the thick fog.


End file.
